


The One Where Sam Fucks a Clown

by Alvara



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Clowns, Face-Fucking, Facials, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:37:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alvara/pseuds/Alvara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean didn’t know which was worse; the fact that he was actually trying to get the makeup just right or the overly bright colors smeared on his face. But he supposed there were worse ways to get over fears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Sam Fucks a Clown

Dean didn’t know which was worse; the fact that he was actually trying to get the makeup just right or the overly bright colors smeared on his face. He secretly thanked his earlier insight on just picking the annoyingly bright red and a normal pasty white with a black detail pen. Still, he was going to go through with this even if he ended up with a broken jaw for it later. And seeing Sam’s face when he got back was going to be priceless no matter what.

Dean tugged on his normal jacket, keeping his normal clothes because he isn’t that much of a freak even if he’s fucking with his brother, in both senses of the term. If only he could get the red of the frown painted over his lips to look less fucking bright against the black outline, he would be ready for when Sam got back from the diner with lunch. And as much as he’d hate to admit it, like full on need thirty years of torture to get it out of him, it wasn’t too bad of a look for him…or maybe he’s just too egotistical of a bastard to say he doesn’t look hot in clown make up.

A loud bang of the door closing warns him that Sam is back with lunch, most likely having too full of hands to shut the door properly without slamming a shoulder into it. The crinkle of bags being set down on the table and then the soft click of Sam locking the door echos soon after. Stage one complete. Dean grins, twisting the frown into a strange mockery of an expression as he stands and waits a little longer in the bathroom. It doesn’t take long before he hears Sam sigh.

“Hahaha. Very funny, Dean. Now get all this glitter off my bed.” Stage two down. Sam unknowingly locking himself in a room with his worst fear, check. Sam being distracted by the ‘rainbow glitter prank’ and letting his guard down, not expecting Dean to do something worse so soon, check. Now for the last bit.

“Dean’s not here right now.” Dean grins as he opens the door and leans against the door frame just as Sam turns around. It takes everything in him not to burst out laughing at how wide Sam’s eyes became and how he looked like he was one wrong move from sprinting out the door and down the road for three miles. Perfect. “But Chuckles is.”

They way Sam drops the glitter covered sheet and peels around the corner of the bed to claw at the door makes Dean worry a bit for the wood work as Sam forgets entirely that he locked it on his way in. Dean grins and walks towards his terrified brother, watching as Sam glances over his shoulder at him while twisting and yanking the door knob viciously. Sam turns around and presses his back flush against the door, a look of utter fear across his face as he tries to move away from Dean’s painted face even though the door won’t budge an inch.

“Dean. This isn’t funny. Stop it.”

“I’m not Dean right now.” Dean shakes his head, walking up and bracing an arm on either side of Sam’s shoulders, locking him in place so the only way he could move away was through him.  
“Seriously. This isn’t funny!” Sam looks as if he’s about to either punch Dean or die of fright when Dean presses up against him, chest to chest, painted lips only an inch away from Sam’s. And damn, Sam really is going to die of fright, Dean realizes, stopping for a moment when he feels his little brother shaking like a fucking leaf under him. Shit.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Sam.” Dean backs off a little, noticing that, yeah, this had been taking it a little too far even for a joke. “I bleed, remember. If it bleeds, you can kill it. Calm down. It’s just the fucking makeup. Christ, I’d hate to think of what you’d do if I did the whole thing.”

Sam seems to relax a bit more, the sound of Dean’s voice making it a bit easier to stand less than a foot away from him even if he couldn’t take his eyes off the damn creepy makeup smearing Dean’s face into a painted frowning clown. He jumps when Dean leans in and kisses him deeply, tongue slipping into his mouth even as he digs his nails into the wood of the door, not wanting to hurt his brother despite Dean being a complete dick and kissing him as a fucking clown. He can’t stop his mouth from going lax against his brother’s though, Dean’s talented tongue shoving halfway down his throat and fucking his mouth until he can’t help but feel his cock twitch in his pants. He wasn’t playing fair at all.

“Come on, Sammy.” Dean muttered as he pulled his lips away from Sam’s, the black outline on the top of the frown smudged into the red a bit. He tugged sharply at Sam’s belt, slipping the buckle open with practiced ease and popping the button on the jeans. “Let ol’ Chuckles teach you clowns aren’t as scary as you think they are.”

Sam gasped when Dean dropped to his knees in front of him, quickly yanking down the zipper of his jeans and pulling them down a bit. Sam swallowed nervously, mind in a panicked frenzy between ‘get the hell out of here’ and ‘why the fuck am I hard?’.

His mind abruptly stops all thought as Dean licks up the underside of his thick cock, flicking his tongue just under the head and kissing the slit before diving down and swallowing the head whole. Sam bucks up into the painted mouth stretched around his cock, closing his eyes and letting out a shaky moan as Dean suck him hard. He really doesn’t want to look down but he can feel the urge starts to build when he feels Dean deep throat him, sucking him like a whore on crack and gagging himself on Sam’s cock. Sam gives in and opens his eyes, glancing down and tensing up as he sees Dean’s head bobbing quickly on his cock, painted face angled up towards him as Dean’s eyes met his.

Sam relaxes against the door, figuring that at least it was his brother and not an actual clown going down on him. He bites back a moan as Dean lifts up and licks along his dick again, making pleasure shoot straight up to his terrified mind and force it to enjoy it. He sighs, slowly lifting a hand from being splayed out against the wood of the door and carefully getting a weak grip on the back of Dean’s head. Dean smiles up at him, the makeup smeared along the bottom of his face into a red, white, and black mess. The white and red under his eyes still intact but he was starting to look a lot less like a creepy sad clown and a lot more like his brother had a fight with a woman’s makeup bag and lost.

“Come on, Sammy. Take out your fear on me in a better way.” Dean swallowed down Sam’s cock again before he can say anything, fucking his own mouth down on to it and forcing a few breathy moans out of Sam’s throat. He feels the hand on the back of his head tighten its grip more before pushing his head down harder, Sam’s hips starting to join his rhythm until his throat was getting fucked raw by his brother.

He feels Sam grab his shoulder suddenly, manhandling him until his back slammed into the door, sitting with his knees up and legs spread as Sam towers over him, fucking his throbbing cock down Dean’s throat forcefully. Dean moans around the flesh in his mouth, relaxing and letting Sam use him as Sam thrusts deeply down his throat and gags him with his cock. He slides a hand down to cup his own cock, still trapped in his jeans and hard as hell from Sam’s brutal thrusts down his throat.

Sam slams a palm against the wooden door before fucking Dean’s throat long and hard, his lips parted and eyes closed as he comes abruptly, giving Dean no other choice but to swallow most of it down and come in his jeans. He pulls out of Dean’s mouth to let a last spurt of his come splash across his face, using the hand not supporting his weight against the door to lean down and smear the makeup more with his seed.

Dean looks too fucked out to care, but then again, Sam owed him a lot worse for the stunt. Then his brother starts laughing like a maniac on the floor, grin covered in a swirl of colors as he looked up at Sam with bright eyes.

“You fucking moaned ‘Chuckles’ when you came, man!”

Sam was never going to live down that night. Ever.


End file.
